Page 54 of Say it Ain’t So

“I’m not going to lie. I’m a bit nervous.” He brought his wing to his lips, only to pause and pull it away. “Kacie said this was one of the most terrifying things she’s ever done.”

“Terrifying? What’s terrifying about it?” Rylan asked.

While Kolton responded, I turned to Van, brow scrunched as I mouthed Kacie?

Van leaned closer until he could whisper in my ear. “One of his two sisters. You haven’t heard about them yet?” I shook my head and Van let out a chuff. “Then you’re in for a treat.”

Van pulled back and I reached for the basket of fried pickles, only to brush the bottom of my forearm against Rylan’s clenched fist. The mere sight of it had me recoiling as the hair on my arm and neck rose. I dragged my attention toward his face and a small amount of relief rushed through me when he offered me a tight smile.

“—And Kendra said she was just being a pussy,” Kolton said, “that it isn’t that bad. So, I don’t know who to believe.”

“I side with Kendra on this one.” Van laughed and Kolton shook his head.

“You always side with Kendra.”

“That’s because”—Van snagged the last two potato skins from the basket nearest Kolton and tossed one on my plate—“she’s the most reasonable of the two.”

Rylan’s smile grew even tighter. “Maybe the asshole in you just loves the domineering bitch in her.”

My eyes widened and my hand shot out to cover his fist. “Rylan!”

Van and Kolton only laughed. The two of them offered up one form of excuse or another—something I was sure I should probably listen to. But there was no listening, at least not on my part. Not when Rylan flipped his hand over and snagged mine, tucking it under the table to rest it on his knee.

Much like when he’d pulled me close to him back at the office, my brain short circuited. I couldn’t focus on anything but the feel of his fingers strung between mine. That, and the way those lifted hairs on my arm seemed to stir. The way my skin itched with the need to have him closer to me.

Rylan was already close. Any closer and we’d be pressed against each other. These tables weren’t large, and with the placement of it inside our cage, it didn’t leave much room.

The space it did leave felt inadequate. Felt like Kolton and Van were too close. Like Rylan was too far away, even though he was right here, holding my hand the way he had as we walked all over Vegas three years ago.

“Okay, here’s one.” Rylan loosened his grip, though he didn’t move to take his hand away. “If you could have a pet in your apartment, what would it be?”

When Kolton scratched at his chin in thought, I realized Rylan’s question wasn’t directed at me.

Did he play this game with everyone he met? Was my experience with him in Vegas just normal for him?

I slipped my hand out of his and picked at an onion ring as Kolton said, “Hmm. I’d say a golden retriever.”

“Why?” Van asked with a smile before he raised both pointer fingers like they were guns and aimed them at Kolton. Both he and Rylan responded at the same time Kolton did, the three of them saying the exact same thing: “Kendra said I should.”

Kolton’s cheeks pinked as the two men laughed at him. I didn’t catch his response. I was too distracted by the finger rubbing circles in the middle of my back.

Rylan kept his attention on Kolton while his arm was draped over the back of my chair. Each swirl of his finger left a chill—a thrill—racing along my spine, and once again I was too distracted by what he was doing to me to follow the conversation.

It wasn’t until the three of them laughed again, and Rylan paused, pressing his palm to my back, that I forced myself to tune back in.

“Rottweiler,” Van said when the two others turned their attention to him. He grinned, lifting his palms in defense. “I know, I know.”

Once again, the three of them said the exact same thing: “It’s fucking fitting!”

“No, really.” Van didn’t turn pink like Kolton did, but he did rush to explain. “I always wanted a dog growing up. My sisters tried to convince my dad to get one of those fru fru, yippy yappy dogs with the poofy white hair⁠—”

“A poodle?” Rylan asked.

“No, smaller than that.” Van pointed at me and snapped his fingers. “What is it? A bitch-something?”

“A Bichon Frisé?”

“Yes!” He pumped his fisted hand like he’d just won something. “The bitchy thing. Anyway, I refused to have one of those in my house⁠—”